


Of Daydreams And Nightmares

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Star Trek The Gentle Seasons Series [7]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: AU, Dark, Dark Spock, Daydreams, Developing Relationship, Heavy Angst, Intervention, M/M, Nightmares, Obsessive Passion, Pre-Slash, Senuous Thinking, psychic links, rough sex implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 08:43:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10659021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: McCoy obsesses about Spock, much to Spock's displeasure.





	Of Daydreams And Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Lonely Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/120234) by [Acidqueen (syredronning)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/syredronning/pseuds/Acidqueen). 



> Catharsis for the Easter holiday.  
> 

I am lying on my lonely bed and sleep will not come. How can it when my mind is on fire with thoughts of you? My body is exhausted and longs for rest, but whenever I close my eyes, all I can see is your face. And that face is harsh and unfeeling and somehow more alien than you are yourself. You would have no tolerance or understanding of my feelings for you, if I was ever foolish enough to let you know of them.

Spock, why are you not here with me?

Seeing your face when I close my eyes is bad enough, but I also see your body. And if it was simply seeing your body, I might yet be able to tolerate my anguish. But, no! I sense your body! I yearn toward your body. It is almost more than I can do in the daytime not to grab you when you stand close to me. At times when we are talking, or in particularly, arguing with each other, I feel such a powerful urge to grab you that it is almost more than I can do to fight back that terrible longing. It’s a wonder that I can keep the thread of our current argument going. And you never know the real reason for the arguing. Anything to keep you talking. Anything to keep you aware of me. Anything to keep you close.

Spock, where are you?

As I lie here, I ache and I think of what I would like to do to you if you were in my arms. And that imagining only stirs me with more torturing as my mind and desires take me further and further down forbidden paths. And I become so stirred that my thoughts race and race around the universe. It has gone beyond a priority to ease my physical need. My body is not only on fire, but my soul. Where can I find solace?

Can you hear me?

Then my hands, my traitorous hands, touch me in forbidden ways. But the release I finally achieve is only momentary. And afterwards, the loneliness crushing down on me is worse than before. Only now I also feel humiliation to be such a slave to my wanton desires.

Spock?

How could it be that I have come to this? Wanting someone who doesn’t want me. No, it isn’t just me. I have to remember that, or your indifference would drive me insane. Any human would be met with the same reception. Chapel and Uhura are interested in you, also, and you stare right through them. The only reason you don’t do that to me is you think of me as a debating colleague. How cold and calculating it must be to be inside your heart? What is it about you that compels us to hunger after you? Is it the lure of the unattainable? The challenge? The seeking of a reward, simply because nobody else can secure it?

I need you, Spock.

I can never tell you of my feelings. If I did, it would destroy the thin veneer of friendship and the small amount of ease that is between us. If I voiced my feelings to you, if I even vaguely hinted at them, you would put up a protective screen. I would destroy even the smallest semblance of respect and caring between us. And, even though I long to hold you and have you respond to me, I know that I cannot jeopardize even the smallest amount of familiarity between us.

Spock?

Cursed was the day I first met you. Evil the day I first sparked interest in you. Deadly the day I realized that I wanted you.

Why don’t you love me?

If only sleep would come. But then would come the day, and I would see you again.

Spock!

 

Who can it be at this hour of the night? Maybe there's an emergency in sickbay, but someone is on duty. I’m not always there, despite whatever you think! Why disturb me?! I do have a life! Albeit, not much of one. But, mine, nonetheless!

Don’t stub your toe, McCoy. That would hurt like hell. Then I’ll be the emergency. Shouldn’t have taken out barefooted just because someone is at the damn door.

Damn! Since I’m up, I can feel that I am tired. Then why in the hell can’t I sleep? Oh, well, I’ll send whoever it is on their misguided way and get back to staring at shadows. There is, after all, a lot of solace in that--

 

McCoy frowned. “Mr. Spock? What do you want at this hour of the night?”

Whatever it is, isn’t good, McCoy thought. The Vulcan looked pissed.

“I have come to request that you stop calling to me.”

“W-what?!”

“You are calling, and it is very disconcerting.”

“I haven’t opened my mouth.”

“There are other ways to call.”

“I’m sorry. You’re mistaken.” McCoy was able to gather some of his stray thoughts. “I don’t do telepathy. That’s more in your realm. You know, all of those esoteric skills that you possess.”

“Our minds must have a psychic link. Anyway, you are using it to call to me.”

McCoy decided to bluff his way through this situation. He wasn’t quite believing this alien. Which one was actually in the other’s dream, anyway?

“Oh?” he asked with a smirk. “And what am I saying to you?”

“You want me to come to your bed and mate with you.”

Hearing it said in such blunt terms stunned McCoy. It even took a lot of the romance out of his desires. He blushed a deep red.

“I believe that you are mistaken!”

“I believe that I am not.” 

The Vulcan seemed pretty adamant. So much for bluffing.

“Then we’re at a stalemate.”

A crewman walked past and gave an odd look at the two officers standing in the hallway talking in the middle of the night. The tension between them was evident, and the crewman didn’t speak, but hurried on his way. Officers! Who knew what in the hell they were up to?!

“Perhaps we should enter your quarters.”

“Alright.” It didn’t occur to McCoy until the door whooshed shut on them that it might not be a good idea to have the Vulcan in his quarters in the middle of the night. Especially since the Vulcan appeared to be angry. 

At last! An emotion from the Vulcan. But McCoy’s victory might be a hollow one. Or even a dangerous one.

“I think that I’m tired of this, already,” McCoy admitted.

“That makes two of us.”

McCoy looked at Spock with new understanding. “You really are somehow very alien, aren’t you?”

“You are looking at me as though I am a new subspecies of some sort of lizard that is not quite socially acceptable to your refined circle of acquaintanceship.”

“I believe that I am. We really can’t ever see eye to eye, can we?”

“I believe you have finally made a statement with which I can heartily agree.”

“So, where do we go from here?”

“I have come to do the only thing I know that will cure you of your obsession.” With that, Spock grabbed McCoy none too gently into his arms.

“What the hell?!”

“Shut up, Earthling! Or you will get nothing of what you wish!” With that, he threw McCoy across his own bed and dove on top of him.

Maybe getting the Vulcan to admit to emotions and to respond to feelings directed his way hadn’t been the best idea, after all. But now was one helluva time to figure all of that out when one was fighting with someone who had suddenly developed ten hands.

McCoy's clothing tore.

Rough hands fondled him.

Then McCoy screamed. 

 

McCoy started and jerked awake. What kind of a sex dream was that?!

Had he dozed off, or been daydreaming? Whatever, he had cleansed himself of the Vulcan and he could sleep. The visitor to his sleep, his night vision, would leave anyone feeling cold. He’d had enough. He was willing to back off. Passion, or obsession, or whatever in the hell he had been feeling, was not worth that feeling of coldness that had permeated him from Spock’s nocturnal visit.

 

“Sleep well, Doctor?” Spock asked the next day.

“At last. You?” he asked, simply because it was the thing to do and not because he was particularly interested.

“After you broke the psychic link, I did.”

McCoy stared. “W-what?!”

“I believe we have much to discuss.”

“How do you know about this?”

“It will not be as bad as you imagined. You were letting yourself get quite pessimistic last night.”

“I don’t understand--”

“We are linked, Doctor.” Spock’s face looked almost pleasant. “For you, it manifests itself in sexual desire.”

“I-I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel uncomfortable.” Shame and humiliation flooded through McCoy.

“You might find that the waking nightmare is worse than the sleeping one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I intend to claim my rights as your manifested lover.”

“You intend to do what?!”

“Once again, it will not be as bad as you now fear. Nor as good as you hoped for in your dreams,” Spock finished in a low, almost menacing voice.

“You’re mad!”

“I am not angry. I am simply stating--”

“I mean that you’re insane.”

“You are not the one who has been plagued by someone who has formed a psychic link with your mind so that someone can have his way with your body.”

“Oh, hell,” McCoy muttered softly. “That is the way it would seem to you. Wouldn’t it?”

“It has gone beyond seeming, Doctor. Your longings and desires are well known to me.”

“There is no softness that can be found in you?”

“For the disturber of my own slumbers? What do you think?”

“I’ll walk away. I’ll transfer away.”

“Psychic links know no boundaries.”

“You said it wouldn’t be so bad.”

“For you. You will be getting what you seek.”

“I seek tenderness, compassion, companionship. What you will be delivering will be blatant, cheap rutting. Merely rutting. That would be worse than loneliness. I would feel like a whore.”

“You Earthlings demand so much!”

“I could give you so much.”

“What if I do not want it?”

“What if you need it?”

“You do not suddenly have the upper hand, Earthling.”

“Maybe not. But I still have free will.”

“You do not want the simple act?”

“Of rutting? No.”

The Vulcan nearly sneered. “So you still are seeking romance?”

“Much more difficult than even that. I am seeking love.”

“That I cannot give.”

“I realize that more than ever.” McCoy moved away.

“Where are you going?”

“I think I don’t want to be around you anymore.”

“You would leave? Willingly hurt yourself?”

“Why not? I’m hurting already. I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

“You would leave me?”

“I don’t want to do that. I know that you need friends, even if you don’t realize it. But sometimes, a person just needs a little encouragement, you know? I want to be appreciated.”

“I do appreciate you, Doctor.”

“Thank you. I didn’t know, for sure.”

“But, apparently, your friendship also comes with a commitment clause that I am not prepared to fulfill.”

“Then that is my problem. And I was wrong to put it as a stipulation to my friendship.”

“But nonetheless, Doctor, there it is.”

“So, what are we going to do about all of this? Are we like the couple who can’t live together, but can’t live apart, either?”

“Apparently so.”

“And even if we are separated, we are still linked psychically.” McCoy’s smile was bitter. “And with our luck, we are linked throughout eternity. Destined to go on together, forever.”

“Again, Doctor, apparently so.”

“So my sleeplessness was the least of my worries. If I’d been smart, I should have felt myself lucky then.”

“How true. As the expression goes, you are my worst nightmare. And I. Am. Yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> There. I feel better. I don't know how you are faring now, but I've had an intervention. Thank you.  
> I own nothing of Star Trek, its characters, and/or its story lines.


End file.
